


18/02/2019: The Busker

by pop_incognito



Series: 365 Drabbles [49]
Category: Free!
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Getting Together, M/M, busker au, but not really, devil wears prada au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 01:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pop_incognito/pseuds/pop_incognito
Summary: There's a cute busker who plays outside of Aiichiro's favourite coffee shop





	18/02/2019: The Busker

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just pretend that this isn't literally three months late, okay? This is an aborted Devil Wears Prada AU that I was planning on writing and then... didn't. For some reason. Oh well. Enjoy!

Aiichiro walks home from work with his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed into his pockets, phone clutched tightly in his right hand – just in case. Just in case his boss needs him. His phone rings at odd times after hours at least six or seven times a night, be it the senior secretary, Rin, giving him the morning’s eccentric coffee order or some other inane task Aii will have to have completed before stepping foot in the office; or their actual boss, Nao, with a direct instruction to pick up a piece from a local supplier at sketchy times of night, or to change the coffee order that Rin had already sent him because Nao has decided he wants mint syrup in his drink instead of lavender.

He likes his job at the sports magazine – IwaPro is currently doing a special issue on an extremely successful ice skater and his even more successful Russian coach, which Aii has interest in for family reasons – and he likes his co-workers and boss, even if Rin is so neurotic Aii wonders how he manages to relax at the end of the day, and Nao must have made some sort of deal with devil for the amount of information he manages to get his hands on before literally any other news source in Japan. But, sometimes, Aii would just like a moment to himself. A moment without Rin yelling at him across the noisy office, or Nao appearing out of a shadow with a new list of things that need to be fixed.

At some point, Aii’s feet have managed to turn him around, and he finds himself wondering towards the strip of cafes that are in the block over from his apartment building. He really should go home. It’s already nearly midnight, and he has to get up at five to go to Nao’s favourite coffee house on the other side of town to pick up some new limited-edition peach-infused latte they’re selling for the owner’s birthday that Nao and Rin both want to try. But, still, Aii’s feet continue on towards the cafes. One of them he knows from experience, visiting several times in the last few months, is open until well past midnight for some strange reason, and their prices drop into absurdly low discounts after ten o’clock in the evening.

The bell has been pulled off its hook and stays silent when he pushes the door open, so Aii assumes at least one of the staff member is asleep in a booth, a sight he has seen many a time over his late-night visits to Whale and Dolphin. Sure enough, the dark-haired man who Aii believes is the afternoon baker is curled up in the booth closest to the counter, body curved around the U-shaped seat with his black baker’s cap pulled low over his eyes. Someone has draped a large dark-blue jacket over him, the collar clutched in one hand. Aii takes careful steps towards the counter, not wanting to wake him.

“Good morning,” a gentle voice calls, and Aii jumps when the barista appears from a door that says ‘STAFF ONLY’, wiping his hands on a checked piece of cloth that he tucks into his pocket. He smiles at Aii, green eyes crinkling even as he looks more than ready for bed himself. “Do you want your usual?”

Maybe Aii comes to the café more than a few times. Three or four times a week at this point, and his cheeks turn pink when he unconsciously starts thinking about why. Instead of saying anything embarrassing, Aii nods his head and pulls a hand out of his coat to pay.

“No need,” the barista says, a sly grin on his tired face. “Your drink has already been paid for tonight.”

“What?” Aii says, confused. Who on earth is even in the café to pay for his coffee? He doubts the barista, or the baker, would pay for their own wares, even if he is apparently a regular customer. “By who?”

The barista just grins a bit wider and inclines his head towards the window. Aii looks over his shoulder, eyes immediately falling on the figure standing outside the café on the other side of the footpath, guitar in hand. It might be midnight and half the shops are closed, but the street is still bustling with activity, as it is a shortcut from the business district to the nightclub district if you take the right side street. The busker already has a few coins and notes in the little tin can he has at his feet, an otter plush toy holding it upright as it watches his fleeting audience with its little glass eyes.

Aii’s blush darkens to a nice rose, and he tries to hide his tiny pleased smile behind his hand as he turns back to the barista, the tall man already making Aii’s drink. “How did he know I’d be coming tonight?” he asks for lack of anything else to say.

“He didn’t,” the barista says simply, drizzling house-made vanilla syrup down the side of the pretty glass mug he has pulled down from the rack over his head. “He left us a couple of hundred yen in an envelope on Monday and said it was for ‘the pretty boy with the IwaPro lanyard and the cute beauty mark’.” He wraps a neatly folded serviette around the mug and then pours the dark coffee into it. “I assume that’s you.” The barista sets a small stencil over the foam and taps cocoa powder over the café’s logo of a whale and dolphin forming a circle. “Go and sit by the window so you can hear him play.”

Aii was going to do that anyway, but the barista doesn’t need to know that, and he shuffles towards the seat, finding the window already open. The barista follows and leaves the coffee in front of him, a tiny chocolate muffin on the plate next to the glass. “Thank you,” Aii murmurs quietly and watches as the barista approaches the baker and shakes his shoulder gently, telling the sleeping man that they can go home in an hour. Aii turns his attention to the window, finding himself staring straight into the bright golden eyes of the red-haired man with the guitar. The bite of muffin he took gets stuck in his throat as the busker smiles at him, looking utterly thrilled that Aii took his offer of coffee. _Thank you_ , Aii mouths at him after coughing into his wrist and swallowing the muffin.

In response, the busker strums his guitar and starts to play. It’s an English song, something fast and bouncy that makes Aii tap his toes on the vinyl floor and the passers by stop to listen, their heads bobbing as they reach into their pockets for the last of the day’s change. Aii doesn’t understand the words enough to follow along properly, but the look on the busker’s face as he looks at Aii through the entire piece is enough to clue him in to what it might be about. The busker’s voice is bright and warmer than the coffee in his hands, and Aii can’t keep his eyes off the man. His guitar has the name ‘MOMO’ painted on the curve of its body, and little blue fishes on the neck.

Aii’s glass is empty and he has turned the tiny muffing wrapper into the world’s smallest origami duck by the time the barista comes back to tell him the café is closing in ten minutes. “I’m not trying to rush you, but if we don’t leave while he’s still awake, I’ll have to carry him home,” he’s gesturing to the baker, who is sitting in his booth now, his own cup of coffee clutched tightly in both hands, “and then we’ll both probably end up asleep in the street outside our apartment again.”

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Aii says, handing his empty crockery to the barista, who smiles again and waves him out the door. “Thank you for the coffee,” Aii calls before pulling the door shut behind him. When he turns around, the busker is standing nervously a few feet away, guitar back in its case and his otter tucked under his arm. “Hi,” Aii says breathlessly.

He really should go home.

“Hi,” the busker says, sounding equally as breathless. “Um…”

“Thank you,” Aii blurts. “For the coffee. And the song.” His face flushes again and he thrusts a hand out. “My name is Nitori Aiichiro!”

The busker grins open-mouthed and seizes Aii’s hand almost reverently. “I’m Mikoshiba Momotarou – you can call me Momo! I’m so happy you took the coffee, I was scared you would think it was creepy.”

Aii shakes his head. “I really appreciate it, it’s been a very long day.” It has, too. Rin had managed to have a meltdown over typesetting, and Nao had sat at his desk and watched the whole thing unfold with his feet propped up until Rin had realised that it wasn’t the typesetting that was the problem, he just needed some caffeine and a sandwich. “Do you… do you want to go out for breakfast?”

“At one AM?” Momo asks, checking his phone briefly for the time. “Sure.” His smile is just as warm as his voice, as warm as the hand he still has wrapped around Aii’s.

They hold hands all the way to the 24 hour MacDonald’s on the corner, sharing hotcakes and hashbrowns and watery orange juice as they get to know each other. Aii calls in sick the next morning, Momo’s arm draped around his waist in bed, and they stay in bed for the rest of the day.

It’s more than worth the disappointed puppy dog face that Rin gives him all day the following day, and even Nao is forgiving when Aii leaves a takeaway cup from Whale and Dolphin on his desk and he declares it the second-best coffee he’s ever had. For someone married to a self-proclaimed coffee snob, Aii considers that high praise from Nao. Aii gets a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos!


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